


C9H13NO3 (gravitas)

by this blue heart (skyvein)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alpha!Taeyong, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Slow Burn, like ultra slow, tags will be updated as this progresses!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 02:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11568777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyvein/pseuds/this%20blue%20heart
Summary: "I didn't think you would come." Jaehyun confesses, sliding the window open to let him in. The night wind fusses against their faces, unsolicited touches, coaxing a shiver from them both. "It's New Year's Eve.""Exactly. Where else would I spend it?"—Jaehyun meets an alpha at the park. It feels like the overlap of two planets in orbit, and nothing is quite the same after that.





	C9H13NO3 (gravitas)

When he is ten, they move to a town by the outskirts of the city.

It's a refreshing change from Seoul, with its loud neon signboards and humming cars. Small towns like this are a new experience, considering how he's spent a whole decade of his life crammed between subways and faceless crowds, his world cradled by artificial light. Looking back, Jaehyun cannot fathom how they managed to pack a life in their matchbox apartment into stacks of box and tape, and move something like that over to a place 26.2 kilometres away. When he is done, standing at the doorway of their empty flat, looking at walls littered with traces of stickers and photo frames, he can't help but feel as though he's let go of something he shouldn't have.

Their new house is bigger—not by much, but it has a garden and two whole storeys of clean, polished wood instead of cement, and the air is stained with forest green, not smoke. It is a good change. He is ten, sitting between half-open boxes of books and toys and mismatched puzzles, and truthfully, Jaehyun thinks that he can get used to this.

There is something inexplicably amusing about running down empty hallways, fingers splayed across the walls. The stairs creak when he moves, and he jumps on them one step at a time, all the way up to the second level. Their house is bathed in a silence more fragile than porcelain, and the only sounds that interrupt are the voices of his parents, debating over chrysanthemums or camellia on the front lawn. It is peaceful, almost. This house has been empty for three years, the seller had said, and the dust motes woven in the air are a testament of that fact.

No words have been spoken between its walls for one thousand and ninety five days. And now, there is Jaehyun.

They unload the boxes, and Jaehyun stakes a claim to the bedroom down the hallway, on the left. It has the only window that overlooks the street, across rows and rows of neat street lights and crisp, parallel lines that demarcate the space of one house from another. The houses are in variating shades of brown and white, but theirs is pastel blue, almost reminiscent of the sky. He might be a little bit biased, but it is the prettiest by far.

This town smells of nothing but pine. There is a husky overtone that reminds him of the subtle layers of dew after rainfall, but it is a far cry from Seoul, which is a heavy mingle of distinct scents, of alphas and betas and omegas packed side by side, moving together in dissonance. Seoul had smelled crude in comparison to this.

Afternoon comes and goes, and Jaehyun spends it stacking his books by size against the wall. He doesn't yet have a cupboard, so his figurines go into his wardrobe, crammed between his clothes. Pieces of furniture are missing here and there—a bed frame, a desk lamp, his old carpet. His mattress is unrolled in the middle of the room, and he slumps against it, breathing in the forest and musk and petrichor, all thick with some kind of nostalgia he cannot recognise. He holds each breath inside him like a treasure one is unwilling to relinquish, feels it brim his lungs and sink into stagnancy.

This is his life now, tucked away in a silent town by the edge of the world. Still, the difference is less tangible than he expects, and he wonders if this place will become another constant that doesn't change.

The next weekend, life has settled into some sort of makeshift rhythm that he slowly gets used to. They go out and buy missing furniture. The sofa is cleaned. The staircase still creaks, but now Jaehyun knows which steps he should skip, at least.

Everything smells less like dust, and more like somewhere he can fit into, without traces of disjoint.

"Jaehyun-ah." his mother calls out from the kitchen, and he lifts his head from where he is nuzzled in the sofa, drowned in the languid summer heat. "There's a park down the street, if you have nothing to do."

He perks up, glancing towards the book on the windowsill, which he has since finished two long hours ago, much to his own dismay. There is not much to do, especially since his school applications haven't been finalised. He's spent the past few days mucking around, reading and sleeping, and utterly bored out of his wits. Clearly his mother can tell. "Can I?"

There is a smile in his mother's voice, gentle like breeze. "Yes, but come back before it gets dark, alright? You still need to help me get dinner ready."

"Okay!" His grin widens, tugging at his cheeks. Permission secured, Jaehyun tumbles onto the floor, shrugging aside the pillows, and heads towards the door. He trips lightly in the process of pulling his socks on, and loosens a laugh from his mother.

"Be careful!" she warns, making her way over and tucking a handkerchief into his pocket. "Six o'clock, alright?"

Jaehyun beams at her, all refulgence and sunrise mingled into the curve of his face. "I won't forget!"

The door slides shut with the sky in his eyes.

 

 

Small fingers tap lightly on his shoulders, their grip hesitant and soft and  _unfamiliar._  Jaehyun jerks, ankle-deep in the sandpit, and feels his heart tremble. The park had been empty when he'd arrived, but now there is someone standing in front of him, and he doesn't quite know what to say. His last heartbeat might have skipped, he isn't sure. He raises his head, but before their eyes can meet, he is hit with a presence that is heavy, domineering, as though all the gravity on earth is suddenly concentrated on his shoulders, forcing him down. The feeling of that reels him, winds him  _hard_ —he might as well have been picked up and flung against a wall.

His throat tightens.

There is a – a boy, standing in front of him, eyes wide. His scent is clean and crisp, subtle, like fresh-pressed linen and sea salt, but there is a hint of something feral that makes Jaehyun recoil slightly.

It is distinct, and almost cruel. The curve of his hazel eyes reflect as much, a molten tinge of dominance that promises something unmistakable.  _ An alpha. _

His mother had said that people only presented after they were twelve, so this boy has to be, what, two years older than Jaehyun at least? A hyung. His gaze is fixed on Jaehyun, unwavering, and under that focus, all the words on his lips are commanded away, swallowed into nothingness.

The boy's face is framed with hair of stark white, falling in layers around his sleek lines. And under the amber gleam of the sun, it looks more silver than snow, verging grey where shadows cradle his face, dappled by the shade. He is so, so beautiful, in that distant, intricate way that reminds Jaehyun that one can look, but not touch. Jaehyun's heart aches and aches, but he is not sure if he is more intimidated or impressed.

"Hi." the boy says, his eyes touched with a little wariness. "You're new around here, aren't you?"

To his own horror, Jaehyun's head dips, almost out of reflex. "Y-yeah."

"I thought so." The alpha's tone softens, like glass held over tempered flame. It gives way to something almost gentle—moreso than the trembles shaking Jaehyun's frame. "It's just – I'm not trying to scare you away, but you're sitting in my usual spot."

Oh.  _Oh_ _._ Jaehyun feels his cheeks prickle. It's been what, one week? He's yet to make a proper friend but all he's done is leave his house for twenty minutes, and he's already offended someone. An alpha, whose aura cows Jaehyun into submission. The thickness in his throat refuses to slide away, and all he can do is swallow and move himself over to make space. "I'm sorry." he says, quickly and meekly. His hands are shaking a little.

There is a small pause as the boy sinks next to him, knees crossed. Jaehyun looks determinedly away, afraid that another glance at the male may bring back the weight in the air. He can feel the warmth of alpha's gaze settle on him, fraught with curiosity. The heat that plagues his ears does not go away.

He knew that alphas could do that, could coax subservience into others and drag submission from the unwilling. Even though he hasn't presented, Jaehyun is no exception to that effect, apparently. Something cold crawls down his spine, a vague flicker of betrayal at his own body.

The boy says, very quietly. "Please don't be scared."

_ Scared? _ _Him?_   Jaehyun flares, a rare burst of indignation, "I'm not scared of you!" His voice shakes at the lie, but beyond all odds, holds together. He is proud of himself.

Then, a smile pulls at the boy's face, like daybreak verging the edges of the horizon, and suddenly all the bruising tenacity fades from under Jaehyun's skin. "That's great! Other kids tend to be, so I, ah, always play alone." He pauses unsteadily, eyes on Jaehyun's sand-smeared hands. "D'you you wanna play with me?"

Jaehyun looks at the sandcastle by his feet, which had collapsed at some point when the boy had arrived and demanded his spot back. He contemplates, "Only if you promise not to hog all the sand."

"I won't." The white-haired boy promises, his grin saccharin. "I'm Lee Taeyong, by the way, and I'm twelve years old. You?"

Jaehyun looks at his fingers, thin and delicate, like the autumn leaves pressed between his stamp albums. They are so different from his own. "I'm Jung Jaehyun," he mumbles, "and you're old enough to be my hyung."

The resultant smile from Taeyong is equal parts dazzling and pleased. He reaches out to scoop sand into misshapen lumps, his fingers carding through powdered gold. Jaehyun watches, wordless, as white flops across his face, reflecting light from the afternoon sun. It is beautiful. He thinks that Taeyong is beautiful.

"Make sure this doesn't collapse." Taeyong orders, guiding Jaehyun's hands so that they curve around the mountain of sand sitting between their knees. Jaehyun lets him do as he pleases, complying without protest. The white-haired boy frees their fingers, and while Jaehyun is occupied, proceeds to drag more sand around them, making some sort of shallow wall.

When it is done, the arc of Taeyong's lips twitch mischievously, his eyes alight when he turns back to survey his work: a shabby fort around the both of them, boxing them in. Jaehyun looks at him, cotton-mouthed and confused, and Taeyong takes the cue to point out, slightly smug, "Listen up. You've been captured, Jaehyun. You can't leave until you give me ransom."

Jaehyun splutters, sweeping sand across Taeyong's knees in rebellion, "You can't do that! Why am  _I_  the hostage?"

"Well,  _I'm_ older—"

They bicker, and afternoon slips away, like coins between the gaps of reedy fingers.

Later they build two towns, and a new castle from scratch, with a functioning moat made out of water from Taeyong's bottle. The alpha maps the boundaries between their legs, weaves tales that makes Jaehyun drop his hands and  _listen_. It's almost unfair, how Taeyong's voice can fall between them like a comfortable weight, all smooth and yielding, each syllable lingering against Jaehyun's skin as though they possessed shape. They are, inexplicably, more tangible than scars—and when the wind took the sound away, Taeyong's words remained. Jaehyun thinks that he can't ever stop listening.

"Here, here, and here, they were all a kingdom, once, and the elf king waged war across two continents—"

"What's a – a conitent?"

"Continent." Taeyong corrects, sagely. "A big land."

Nodding, Jaehyun turns back to the ground, where one plane of existence met another, their borders sketched by the swirl of Taeyong's thin fingers. He reaches out, and the tips of his fingers fall in between, on unmarked land. "Tell me more, hyung."

Something indulgent glints in the edge of Taeyong's eyes, brighter than candlelight, brighter than the quicksilver refraction of his hair. In a sudden burst of audacity, he launches forward to rub sand across Jaehyun's cheeks, snorting loudly, and Jaehyun squawks.

_ "JEEZ, TAEYONG-HYUNG!!" _

They fall in a struggle of limbs and sand, splayed against each other. Jaehyun swipes at him, bent on throttling him into oblivion, and Taeyong ducks each move with an ungodly dexterity, chortling. They demolish kingdoms in their wake, and it's all great fun, except—

(the full shade crowns Taeyong's face with penumbral tenderness, and Jaehyun notices that his hair, canvas-white only minutes ago, has dipped into grey. and where has the sun gone?)

"Ah, Taeyong-hyung."

The older boy looks up, smiling still. His face is freckled with sand, from the curves of his cheeks to the bridge of his nose. Some of it is in his hair, a startling contrast of colour. Jaehyun stifles a giggle.

"What?" The older retorts, grinning. "What's the joke?"

Jaehyun sits up, dusting at his clothes, and he smoothens out their wall of sand under his fingers to make an exit. When a frown flickers on Taeyong's face, he says, by way of explanation, "I have to go home now."

He sounds apologetic, and Taeyong's expression plummets, as though he's been gutted and laid out to bleed. Jaehyun almost feels guilty, but then he remembers that he doesn't have to be.

"I need to be back when it gets dark." he mumbles.

Taeyong pouts. "But we were having so much fun!"

"We were," he agrees, "but I can't go home too late."

"No." Something incandescent throbs behind the edges of Taeyong's eyes, and the emotion it hints is unreadable. "No, Jaehyun, stay."

The younger frowns. He opens his mouth to retort, but then his words trail off, suddenly conscious of the atmosphere solidifying around him, folding into place like a plaster cast around wax. Something burns against his chest, internalising Taeyong's words. It leaves an imprint, almost a command that he cannot disavow. All around him, the gravity is palpable now, as it had been when they had first met.

"Jaehyun." Taeyong repeats, his gaze focused, concentrated. His irises constrict, and it reminds Jaehyun uncannily of a panther waiting to pounce. Someone else has taken the place of the boy Jaehyun was playing with, the boy with more smiles than stories to tell, and he is scared.

The force of everything suffocates him—it feels as though he's been placed in a tank brimmed with carbon dioxide, and he doesn't understand why he can't breathe even though the air still enters his lungs.

"T-Taeyong-hyung," he gathers enough courage in him to argue, but then Taeyong's eyes flash in a challenge. That courage falls to pieces.

"Jaehyun, stay."

_ Stay. _

The pheromones intensify, and the salt in the air feels like waves and waves of winter tide, crashing over him, drowning him within the far end of an ocean he cannot fathom. Here, he is layered between the pressure, his limbs frozen, his blood chilled to the marrows.

Each breath leaves him in broken pants.

He tries to move, to walk away from the sandpit, but it's as though he's been quenched in ice. Nothing in his body is listening, and he remains locked in place, unable to even tremble. Bound like a dog. He doesn't understand, but he knows for sure that he is so, so terrified, and he honestly has no idea if he rightfully should be.

His body tells him,  _ obey, obey, obey. _

He cannot refuse. But  _why?_  He needs to go home before his mother gets mad, obviously, so he knows that he has to leave. But Taeyong-hyung told him to stay, Jaehyun, stay , and now he  _can't move._

(something is whispering against him, the cadence of its words an unwelcome presence.  _if you disobey, you'll be bad, you'll be a disappointment, and taeyong-hyung will angry, so angry, so, so angr—_ )

A tight, heated feeling creeps up on him, and he wonders if his heart has stopped, if it can even restart after all this.

"T-Taeyong-hyung." he whimpers. Tears leak from the sides of his face, unbidden, and the park blurs in a kaleidoscope of green and gold and white. "I-I can't move."

One moment later, the spell is broken, almost. The weight in his chest doesn't lift, but something akin to horror blooms on Taeyong's face, and he scrambles over, his fingers tightening around Jaehyun's wrists. His voice is frantic, a stammer, "I'm...I'm so sorry, Jaehyun, I didn't mean – "

"I can't move." he repeats, his words frightened and fractured. His body remains beyond his control, a puppet with all its strings cut, waiting for command. "Taeyong-hyung, I—"

Taeyong tugs, and Jaehyun's limbs crumple underneath him, stiff and unyielding. He slumps heavily against the alpha with a muffled cry, and then they are toppling face-first into the sand. The grit drags against their skin; Taeyong's arms are around Jaehyun, soft, as though he is holding something already broken, and trying to keep it from more damage.

"Why?"

A sniffle. "You told me to stay, so I have to stay." He sounds more plaintive than accusing. "My legs won't..."

The look on the alpha's face is more lost than anything. For a moment, Jaehyun almost feels sorry for him.

"Listen, I release you. I'm so sorry I made you do that, I-I—" Taeyong takes a deep breath, and looks Jaehyun in the eye, voice firm. They are lying down, side by side, and his right arm is braced under Jaehyun's head, keeping it from the ground. The expression on Taeyong's face (frightened, guilty, self-loathing) is enough to convince Jaehyun to trust him with forgiveness. "—I didn't mean to. You can move now."

Something solid anchors in his tone, enough to dissipate all traces of the command imprinted in Jaehyun. It's like the weights on him have been lifted, all over again. Air floods him once more, but all this reminds him of being plunged from one orbit into another, mercilessly bipolar. He's had enough of alphas and dominance and stupid, stupid pheromones for one day. Jaehyun wriggles his fingers, slowly. Then his left arm and toes, slowly trying to recall the way they had fit in his coordination.

"I'm sorry." Taeyong says miserably, after he's pulled them both up and waited for Jaehyun to dust the sand away. "I keep forgetting that it's not the same anymore, now that I'm an—"

Abrupt silence fills the gap, disjointed between them. Like a flatline without anyone to interpret. Taeyong's gaze dims, and he scuffs his toes against the sidewalk.

"An alpha?" Jaehyun offers, smiling weakly.

"Yeah." Taeyong glances at him again, eyes edged by sunset. He reaches out, tentative, and wordlessly, Jaehyun lets him. One hand winds around his, holding tight, and when Taeyong speaks again it sounds more like a promise than anything. "I won't do that to you again, alright?"

"I'll see you next week, hyung." Jaehyun tells him, and that, too, is another promise, except that he's the one making it.

 

 

"Jaehyun-ah." His mother asks him quietly. "Have you been crying?"

He freezes at the doorstep, fingers tangled in his shoelaces. Outside, the beginnings of night have begun to creep from the horizon, smudges of navy and jet, as subtle as they are beautiful. He's made it back without much of a hassle, although he did pick a few wrong turns on the way. It's okay—he is ten now, and he can find his way home just fine.

The tear-tracks must still be on his face. He feels them prickle against his skin, now a crawling itch that he wished he could wash away. His mother's eyes are on him, wrinkled with concern, and all of a sudden he is chewed with guilt, a sobering reminder that he's made her worry. That he didn't mean to, but he had.

"No, eomma, I'm okay." He says brightly, and forces himself to continue moving his fingers, picking at the knot on his shoes and pretending that it's alright. It is. Taeyong is kind and makes him laugh, and he's not sad anymore.

But his mother can always tell when he is half lying, and above anything, excels in picking his masks apart. It's almost depressing, when she makes her way over and puts both hands on his shoulders, steering him to look her in the eye. Something numb overtakes him. "Did someone bully you?" she whispers, running her hand down the curve of his cheeks, smudging the path of his tears away. "Sweetheart, you can always talk to me about it. I'll take care of them for you."

He thinks suddenly of Taeyong's smile, haloed by sunlight. And the way his eyes had crinkled.

"No!" The words burst out of him before he can string them together in his mind, spilling from his lips. "No, it's not like that, eomma, you don't have to worry! I mean, there was a boy and he was scary, and he was an alpha and he told me to stay and I couldn't move but – but I'm okay now! He won't hurt me, he promised—please let me go out and play next week, please?"

It feels as though he's lost captivity of all the words in him. By the time they leave his throat, he is gasping, slightly, irises blown wide.

His mother pulls him close, the warmth of her scent washing over him. He hugs her back, breathes deep, his eyes lidded, and feels the hammering of his own heart slow down. It is safe and warm, protected, like he is cradled three feet deep between pillows and duvets, away from the world. Between her arms, it feels like nothing can touch him. Her voice is quiet, and she pulls away to look at him again, her hands resting around his shoulders, "Jaehyun, dear, you have to tell me properly. No rushing, okay?"

A tremble plagues his voice. "He told me to stay. Then I did, even though I didn't want to. I couldn't move."

There are fingers in his hair, stroking in a comfortable rhythm. Words churn on his tongue, still unspoken, and his mother waits for him to get them out.

"Eomma, he was an alpha, and he could do that!" He buries his face against her collar, voice muffled, "How is that fair?"

"It's not always fair, Jaehyun-ah. Nature doesn't work that way." his mother whispers gently, settling him on her lap. He hasn't let her do that since he turned eight and decided he was old enough to take care of himself. Here, squirming against her, Jaehyun doesn't think he is old enough yet. Not nearly. "I don't want you to be friends with an alpha like that, Jaehyunie. It's dangerous. Did he hurt you?"

He shakes his head emphatically, "No!"

At that, she heaves a sigh, fingers running down his back. "That's good."

"Taeyong wouldn't hurt me." Jaehyun promises her, the same way Taeyong had promised him, bright and so foolish. There is a little defiance in his tone. "I like playing with him. I  _want_  to be his friend, eomma."

His mother sets him down, her expression puzzled. He kicks both of his shoes off and follows her to the sofa, where she opens her arms and waits for him to huddle against her again. "Taeyong? As in Lee Taeyong? The boy who lives across the street?"

Across the street? Jaehyun had guessed that they were in the same neighbourhood, but he hadn't expected Taeyong to be  _ this_ close—barely separated by a road. How many Lee Taeyongs are there, even? There is only one Jaehyun knows. He wonders what Taeyong is doing now, if Taeyong knows where he is – if Taeyong would hear him if he opened the windows and hollered loud enough. He is more delighted than astonished, really. 

"I dunno." He says honestly. "How do you know him, eomma?"

She looks pensive, contemplating. It was the kind of face she would make whenever she deliberated over whether or not to punish him for doing something wrong. Something doesn't bode well. Carefully, Jaehyun slides onto the floor and rocks back and forth on the balls of his heels, waiting. He's not sure what he expects her to say.

And yet.

"I met his mum the other day, at the supermarket." His mother mentions, vaguely, "She was a very nice lady."

She probably was. Taeyong was nice, too, and all that niceness had to come from somewhere.

"In fact," Eomma suggests, "we could go over, and have a talk with her right now."

Jaehyun's heart stumbles. "Huh? W-Why?"

"Because Taeyong doesn't know how to control himself, and that can be dangerous. Not just for you, sweetheart, but for him too." His mother curls her hands around his wrists, pulling him towards the kitchen. "It's not right for alphas to go around asserting their dominance on people."

"But, eomma—"

"I know you want to be his friend, and I want you to make friends too. But I love you, Jaehyunie, and I get scared. If you want to play with him, then I need to sort this out with his mum, alright?"

This is an exchange, Jaehyun can tell. Play with Taeyong, talk to his mum. Some things have to come hand in hand, and if it means that he doesn't need to break his promise next week, then Jaehyun is perfectly willing to make this trade. He huffs, disgruntled but compliant, "M'kay."

"That's my good boy." A beam. "Help me pack some kimchi, we can bring it as a gift."

 

 

"Aah, Jisoo-ssi, you shouldn't have!"

His mother is right—Taeyong's eomma is nice. Possibly one of the nicest mothers he's met out there, in fact, second only to Jaehyun's own. Their box of kimchi is accepted with a graceful smile, and at the doorway, Jaehyun is hit with the warmth of cranberries and summer fields, a strong, refreshing scent.

Taeyong's eomma, he realises, is also an alpha. She does look like one—there is strength in the way she holds herself, something steady and measured, but with a hint of mischief nonetheless. Taeyong is the splitting image of her: sharp edges and delicate curves in all the right places, and a laugh that could rival the afternoon sun. Jaehyun falls in step with his mother, fingers clinging lightly to her skirt as Taeyong's eomma invites them in.

He's hardly made more than two steps inside when a head pops up from behind the sofa, smiling, ivory hair limned by light. A face that he is unlikely to forget.

"Jaehyun!" Taeyong exclaims, sounding delighted, and Taeyong's eomma chuckles. "Ah, Taeyongie, so this is  _ your_ Jaehyun?"

Taeyong nods earnestly, "The one and only."

"I've been hearing your name for the past hour now." Taeyong's eomma explains, pulling up a seat by the table. Her eyes are lit with mirth. "You've become a bit of our new family mystery, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun steps out from behind his mother's skirt, waving shyly, until Taeyong comes over and tangles their hands together. "Did you... Did you miss me?"

"I did." Jaehyun admits.

Unexpectedly, the alpha's face burns crimson, and it is so pretty that Jaehyun thinks he wouldn't mind looking at a view like this every day. Something bashful slips into Taeyong's expression—and  _ there_ it is, his smile, pulled wider than an open door. "I missed you too."

They share a grin, small and tentative. Something tingles at Jaehyun's arm, starting from where their fingers are still entwined. For a moment, it feels like they're back at the sandpit, just them and the skyline, dipped in red. A loud coo from Taeyong's eomma interrupts them, "Aww, he's adorable."

Taeyong beams, tugging Jaehyun closer to his side, "Isn't he?"

Both their mothers burst into amused laughter, sharing a look. Taeyong's eomma grins, "When Taeyong came back yelling about his new friend, I had no idea it was going to be your son. Honestly, I didn't think they would meet so fast."

"It's a small world." his mother agrees, smiling.

While their parents exchange light conversation, Taeyong tugs Jaehyun to the corner of the room, where a purple mat is spread out on the floor, scattered with a few pieces of Jenga. He sinks down, and pats the space beside him, beaming.

Blinking, Jaehyun sits politely, and the both of them proceed to stack up blocks in comfortable silence. Between them, it feels like there are no words to be said. Their tower grows higher and higher, determinedly veering off its straight lines and tilting elsewhere.

When Jaehyun takes longer than normal to contemplate which block to pull out, Taeyong puts both his hands on his lap, palms down, eyes cast. He says, quietly and abruptly, "They're talking about me, you know."

"Who?"

"Your mum." Taeying replies glumly. "And mine. I heard my name."

Jaehyun stills, and then his hands are finding their way to Taeyong's, holding tight. "Is it about today afternoon?"

"I think. I told my mum about it."

"So did I." Jaehyun confesses. "She got mad."

It's as though his words are incandescent. Taeyong flinches against his touch, his head darting up, eyes blown wide. "A-and you? Are you mad too?"

Unintentionally, Jaehyun shoots him an affronted look. "Of course not!" he huffs, partly insulted because he couldn't believe that Taeyong would even entertain the thought of Jaehyun not liking him. "Why would I be here if I were still mad?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry." Slumping, Taeyong looks so downcast that Jaehyun  _has_ to do something. His arms are moving before he can think, and he only has a moment to be semi-aware before he drapes himself around Taeyong, cradling him lightly. There is a faint pause before he starts to feel Taeyong's arms slide around his torso too, returning the embrace like the push and pull of a tide in exchange.

"Don't be sad, Taeyong-hyung." he reassures.

It gets a little hard to concentrate after that. It's not like Jenga becomes any less entertaining—it's just that once he's caught on to a thread of the conversation behind him, it's hard to  _ let go. _

Their mothers' voices are a low murmur in the background, heads bowed, closed off in a world that both Taeyong and Jaehyun aren't privy to. Despite this, a few words still slip from that space, like swallows sneaking free from the confines of their cage. When they breeze against Jaehyun's ears, he has to keep himself from flaring out in indignation.

"—Taeyong has already told me about it, when he came back. I'll try to keep him in line next time, so sorry—"

He is suddenly aware of Taeyong's fingers, worrying at the hem of his shirt, as though the cloth could warp his fear away. He's been doing that ever since they've started this game, but it's only now that Jaehyun actually  _notices_ . A prickle of frustration swallows him in its heady vertigo.

It has to be awful, having to listen to people talk you about like that. He's only agreed to come because he wanted to play with Taeyong next week. But now, Taeyong is sitting opposite him, looking faintly like he is about to start sobbing, and the ache brimming in Jaehyun's chest threatens to drown him under. He hadn't meant for this to happen. Maybe he shouldn't have come, maybe then Taeyong wouldn't be sad.

Taeyong is the hyung between the both of them—if he started crying, where would they be?

The alpha makes a move to pull his hands away, clambering to his feet, but Jaehyun stops him with a tug. His fingers are still tangled up between Taeyong's, and he pulls the older backwards, so they end up flopping heavily back on the carpet.

"I don't want to be here." Taeyong tells him, miserably. There is a crease in his brow that Jaehyun wishes to smoothen away. He wants so much to coax a smile back on Taeyong's face, just to watch how it would bloom. "E-Everyone is still mad with me."

"I'm not." says Jaehyun, with undiluted honesty. "I forgive you. I've already forgiven you."

At that, a slow, tentative smile unravels on Taeyong's face, so mellow that Jaehyun actually has to stop talking just to catch his own breath. It was like watching the sun rise on the clean edge of the horizon, achingly familiar, but never a sight that anyone could tire of. The older's cheeks tug upwards in tandem, and Jaehyun (as always) is compelled to return it, twice as bright and a thousand times softer. They return to playing with Jenga blocks, but instead of stacking them up, they line the blocks up one by one like dominos, paving a steady path around their feet. Taeyong flicks one of the ends, and laughs when the effect ripples across the blocks, each piece falling into place beside one another, in sync yet markedly discrete.

They are interrupted by the sound of footsteps, approaching their corner of the room. Beside him, all the light Taeyong's gaze suddenly drops, like a candle blown out swiftly by window draught.

"Jaehyun." Taeyong's mother has a gentle voice, but all Jaehyun can think of is the way their parents had talked about Taeyong, as though the both of them had not been in the room. Something inside him mouths a careful protest, and he cannot bring himself to smile. "I heard about what Taeyong did to you today. Your mum and I were just talking about it."

"I know." he whispers, and shrinks into himself a little, as though in counter to how his voice is louder than his audacity permits. "He told me he was sorry, and I forgive him. Please don't be mad at him."

"I'm not mad at him." Taeyong's eomma promises. "I just want to explain. He was wrong to assert his dominance like that, and if he does it again, you don't have to always forgive him."

_I want to,_  he thinks vaguely,  _is that wrong? _

"Our Taeyong turned twelve this year, and he's still grappling with himself." Her face crumples apologetically. "He's not used to being an alpha. Too much pheromones to control, you see."

Jaehyun looks at her, and understands. Nods.

She pauses a little, and crouches down to pinch at his cheeks, smiling when she elicits a muffled yelp. "But he knows he is wrong, and he promised me he won't do it again. Is that alright for you, Jaehyunie?"

Jaehyun nods in heavy emphasis, his cheeks still stinging, and is massively glad to be rid of the entire mess. One day, it'll be his turn to invite Taeyong to his house, and he'll bring Taeyong somewhere no one can breathe a word about them.

Beside him, he can feel the tension thaw out from Taeyong's frame. Then, he finds the courage to ask, "Will Taeyong-hyung go the park with me next week?"

Their mothers share a look, lips quirked in amusement. "I don't see why not."

Taeyong tightens his hold around Jaehyun's fingers again, squeezing lightly, and though he isn't looking, Jaehyun knows that he is smiling. Feels it, even.

 

。

。

。

 

Something is knocking against his windows.

Which – he thinks as he jolts awake, all tangled up under the muted warmth of his sheets – honestly makes absolutely no sense, considering how his bedroom is on the second storey, and it's a ten meter drop from his windows to the yard, at least.

At least the height doesn't deter the culprit. Whoever it is, they are still knocking.

The quick glance at the clock offers little explanation; it's almost midnight, which suggests that he'd gone to sleep a little over an hour ago. Jaehyun muffles a whine, sleep-deprived but also too conscious to slip back into slumber at this point. Grudgingly, he peeks at the clock again, this time at the date, and  _ah_ . It makes sense now.

He casts a look towards the window, and is almost exasperated by the view: small, grey rocks, bumping against his windowpanes at irregular intervals. Heaving a suffering sigh, he picks himself off the bed, and trudges towards the windows.

Outside, it is entirely starless—a bitter, smooth plane of navy blue mingled with grey, like the belly of upturned shale. Night weaves shadows all around Jaehyun's room, parallel to the thin bars of his windows, criss-crossing along the whites of his wallpaper.

He pulls open one side, and pokes his head outside, face drawn in a disapproving frown. And sure enough, the view that greets him is one that he'll never grow tired of. Although it's been four long years, the way Taeyong looks, suspended in darkness, is exactly the same. The moonlight isn't nearly bright enough—it illuminates the curves of Taeyong's face, verging the dips of his jaw and collar, but only just. Here, juxtaposed against the sky and grass, he looks beholden to no one. Not even Jaehyun.

The latter's face tugs into a lopsided smile. "You're awake!  _Finally!" _

Jaehyun hides his chuckle behind the sleeves of his sweater, trying to look even remotely pissed, but failing so miserably—as all his attempts do around Lee Taeyong, bane of his existence.

"I've been here for ten minutes." is all the elder complains, his face coloured by the cold. His hair blazes around his face, mercury white, the same biting shade as frost on windowpanes, and truly, he looks like a child of winter. "At this rate, I would've run out of rocks." 

Laughter finally escapes him, painfully out of place in the silence of the neighbourhood. Down the street, most windows are lit with warm light, and he spies movement behind them, drinking and laughing, festivities celebrated in familial privacy. Taeyong pouts at him, shoves a hand down his pockets to procure another rock, and flicks it up two storeys in practiced skill. With a depressing precision, it hits Jaehyun square on the forehead, cold but not entirely painful, and he proceeds to glare down at the alpha standing on his lawn.

Said alpha is beginning to scale the tree that stands the closest to their house, its branches stretching far enough to reach the ledge Jaehyun's windows. It's a common habit by now, one borne from too many nights of wayward adventures, the dawn on their heels. Jaehyun can remember every single time they've done this, even though all of that amounts to more days than can be possibly captured between the tiny boxes of dog-eared calendars.

Taeyong moves up with ease, his lithe figure and slender limbs practically made for tree-climbing. Four years have done him well—he's been thin for as long as Jaehyun can remember, honestly, but now that Jaehyun looks – actually, properly  _ looks_– he notices that Taeyong is sleek, his lines precise and cutting, as though he is an artisan's masterpiece delicate enough to be measured, if Jaehyun should try. Crawling along one of the boughs, he comes close enough for Jaehyun to touch, grin wicked, and the beta stretches out his hands to pull Taeyong nearer, enough for the older male to hop off and plant his feet on the ledge protruding out from the opposite side of their wall.

It is dangerous, and Taeyong relishes in it. They're probably going to die early, aren't they?

Taeyong wraps his fingers around Jaehyun's curtains, using them to stabilise himself. "Damnit, I always tell you to keep your windows open, idiot."

"I didn't think you would come." Jaehyun confesses, sliding the rest of it open to let him in. The night wind fusses against their faces, unsolicited touches, coaxing a shiver from them both. "It's New Year's Eve."

"Exactly. Where else would I spend it?" Taeyong snorts, hoisting himself over the ledge and – in way of greeting – pouncing on Jaehyun without hesitation, sending them rolling on the carpet in a fitful of giggles.

"Hyung, that hurts!"

Taeyong nuzzles him, and practically purrs. "Yeah, but you're warm."

"Yes, well," Jaehyun tells him, trying to keep his face straight, "that's because I keep my windows  _ closed_. _" _

A snort, and they drop the argument, mostly because Taeyong crawls off him and makes himself comfortable on Jaehyun's bed. He buries himself into the duvet, squirming left and right, and with a hum, Jaehyun slips in next to him, tangling their feet together. Whenever they do this, the bed always ends up heavy with Taeyong's scent, and Jaehyun wakes up in the morning tasting ocean tide on his tongue. Not that he's complaining, of course.

"It's six minutes to next year." Jaehyun informs, swathed up in bedsheets. Beside him, Taeyong chuckles, and the sound vibrates against their skins, like a heartbeat shared between two.

"Hyung, what do we do now?"

Taeyong shrugs, simply and sincerely. "We wait."

And they wait.

"Are you gonna make a wish, hyung?" Jaehyun asks him, watching how Taeyong fixes his eyes towards the open windows, irises glazed over as though expecting something. As though reality would concede if he wished hard and long enough. It's a nearly a tradition for them to save all their resolutions for the New Year. Although Taeyong never talks about what he wishes for when he closes his eyes, clasps his fingers, Jaehyun thinks that he might already know all of Taeyong's dreams.

_ I want to be happy. _

He breaths in, and feels the air stagnate in his lungs, like a river with nowhere to flow. This year, he only has one wish, and tonight he hands it over to the stars with something akin to wistfulness—but only a little, he thinks. Some things need to be let go.

Unlike Seoul, there are no fireworks. Nothing is there to herald the end of three hundred and sixty-five long days, and the start of another hundred, thousand, million—neither the first nor the last of many. It is something Jaehyun will never get used to, watching the seconds slip past in utter silence. How one year transits into the next, all in between the spaces of one inhale and exhale, like the tipping point after equilibrium.

Just like that, the year ends, with Taeyong's shoulder pressed against his own, his warmth something familiar. An anchor that returns Jaehyun to the shore. Nothing has changed.

"Jaehyunie."

"Hm?"

"It's the New Year." Taeyong points out. Jaehyun tilts his head, looking over at him with a hum, "Yes."

"If you asked me for anything," the older male tells him, voice level, "I would give it to you."

It's stupid. Jaehyun's heart trips, and it's so, so unfair, the kind of effect that Taeyong can have. He is not entirely sure if it's because his hyung is an alpha – once again, that dumb, genetic advantage – or if it's simply because of the way his smile settles on his face, an immeasurable tangent; the way the sky glimmers in those eyes. He breathes, pliant and soft, nothing more than rounded syllables, "I know, hyung. And I wouldn't need to ask."

 

Later, when Taeyong is gone, Jaehyun curls up on his side of the bed, drowned in cotton breeze and fresh salt. He thinks of the way Taeyong had smiled after what he said, wonders if this is how it feels to have fallen, too far, too quickly.

He keeps his windows open tomorrow night. The day after, he gets a cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahem. yes.  
> It's 1am right now and I'm completely dead XD I'm sorry if everything is really confusing, I wanted to write a lot of fluff before shit goes down (uhuhu) so to clarify, Jaehyun starts off 10 years old, and after the timeskip (demarcated by the line of small circles) he is 14. 
> 
> Tbh I plan to spend a lot of time exploring the dynamics of a/b/o and maybe stigmas associated with omegas, that sort of thing. Which really leaves little room for anything else aside from romance, tbh. I genuinely apologise. 
> 
> this is my first kpop fic and I'm really worried about how it turned out. I really hope I did my bbies justice, and beyond anything, I hope that this was enjoyable to read. It was certainly a pain in the ass to write though, and I am so conflicted with the writing style in this one, so I'm still working on it!!  
> the rest of the nct ensemble will appear in the next few chapters, no worries! ^o^)/  
> In the meantime, thank you for reading, and do feel free to leave kudos or yell at me in my comments!! have a nice day, lovelies!
> 
> (also, the title is the chemical formula for adrenaline ^^ in case anyone was curious)


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